The world was hot. Sand burned even through the sole of shoes; The hot air burned with every sigh the lungs; and the yellow-orange sun with every second seemed to increase the degree of heat.
The desert was divided straight as an arrow road, but did anyone go there? The wind calmly covered the hot asphalt with sand, rustling like a hundred snakes.
On the way the young man tried to walk, constantly stumbling and falling into the sand. Then he rose wearily and walked on like a zombie.
Sometimes he stopped and nervously pulled on his black sweater. Too hot in it, but the battering that he received before, did not like the hot wind with sand. And the young man only wiggled the sweater, pushed his black hat over his eyes and continued walking slowly.
“Devilish bastards, I very much hope that I will not die here in spite of you. It’s so hot, damn it. I do not want to die at all, where did they bring me? How much blood… I hate the sight of blood.
As I want to drink, the soul would have sold for a glass of water … Sons of bitch, it seems you broke me a few edges. And I feel a bad hand … then I really just have to lie down here and die. ”The
young man once again stopped, spat blood on the sand, watching
indifferently how the grains of sand were painted in a bright scarlet
color. Then, with a long glance through his light eyelashes, he looked at the setting sun and swore:— Oh shit.
It seems that he will have to go all night.
Howondaland 